


The Hunter and The Hunted

by howtogetawaywithsutter



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: F/M, Hunter Stiles Stilinski, Malia learning control, werewolf Malia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-15
Updated: 2014-09-15
Packaged: 2018-02-17 11:13:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2307575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/howtogetawaywithsutter/pseuds/howtogetawaywithsutter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles is a hunter training under the watchful eye of Chris Argent, when he meets a werewolf named Malia Tate. Looking at her, he finds it impossible to stick to the code.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Hunter and The Hunted

Stiles had just finished weapons training and was cleaning his rifle when the youngest Argent, Allison, walked down the steps from the house to the basement. He had been training with the Argent family for so long, he thought of the dark haired girl as the little sister he never had.

“What’s up Ali?” he asked, staring down the barrel of his gun. 

“Nice shooting out there today. Think you can put those skills of yours to good use?” she mocked. “Some of the sensors we planted in the woods the other day have gone off. Not a werewolf, but dad’s going to check it out… He wants you to come.” She grinned.

A little too enthusiastically, he loaded the gun and sprinted up the stairs. He had been training his hyperactive ass off for six months now, getting top marks in both theory and physical assessments and not once had he been invited on patrol. Now he had, which meant that Argent thought he was ready. 

He found Chris in the front room packing sonar transmitters and a revolver, no doubt loaded with wolfbane bullets, into a black duffle bag. The man looked up, acknowledging Stiles’ presence, and nodded. Stiles couldn’t help but notice a hint of pride spark up in his eyes. Slinging the gear over their shoulders, they made their way to the truck which was parked in front of the house. 

“Okay Argent,” Stiles started, sliding into the passenger seat, “So what’s the 411?”

“Some of our transmitters picked up a supernatural presence in the woods. As far as we know it’s not werewolf, but we need to check it out none the less.” Argent replied. 

The drive there was spent discussing tactics and strategies they would use if the threat was serious. When they arrived, Stiles jumped out of the truck and walked around to collect his gear from the trunk. Slinging his rifle across his shoulder, he went over the plan he and Chris had devised in his head. Argent was going to scout out the east of the woods where the sensors were set up to check the transmitters, and Stiles was going to head north. According to the sensors, that’s the direction that the thing ran, so it was Stiles’ job to check it out.

They started off their separate ways, and it wasn’t long before Stiles noticed some footprints in the mud. They were human shaped, but as he got closer he noticed small indents in the ground at the end of each toe. Not human. From the size and shape, he guessed that whatever it was was female and from the deepness of the prints, she was running. Standing from his crouch, he readied his rifle and followed the footprints to the entrance of what looked like a small coyote den.

Through the darkness of the night that was surrounding him, it was impossible to see inside from where he stood. Unclipping the small flashlight that hung on his belt, he walked into the mouth of the den, the small bulb illuminating the space. At first, the cave was too dark to see anything, but as his eye adjusted to the dimly lit space, he noticed a figure hunched over at the end of the den. The beam of light that came from the torch traveled across the walls and landed on the girl. 

As the light found her, her head shot up. She couldn’t have been more than seventeen, his age. Her hazel brown hair was matted and dirty, her hands and face covered in dirt and blood. Stiles could see blood seeping out from a wound in her leg. Her face was a mask of pain mixed with terror, pulling down on her features as if she was just a child. She was clothed, but not enough to keep her warm through the roaring wind outside, and for the most part it was soaked with blood. There was one other thing he noticed; her claws.

In his head, he could hear the hunters code being muttered by a million tiny voices; “We hunt those who hunt us.” This had always meant killing all supernatural creatures, before they had the chance to kill you. Stiles knew what he was supposed to do, what Argent expected him to do; eliminate the threat. Looking at her though, he couldn’t. As his brown eyes met hers, he had the urge to help her.

“Uh, hi. I’m Stiles.” He started, dropping his weapon from his shoulder and placing it on the floor. Her eyes followed the weapon down, then shot up to meet Stiles’ as he slowly walked towards her.

“What’s happening to me?” She spoke softly. It suddenly became clear to him what had happened. She wasn’t a born, she had been bitten. 

He crouched next to her. “Let me see your leg.” He asked. When she nodded in response, he slid the hem of her denim shorts up her calf and glanced at the wound. Just as he had suspected, in the side of her leg was a large, fanged bite mark.

When he looked back at her, her eyes were already on him. “It’s bad isn’t it.” she asked, already knowing the answer.

“What happened?” He asked, sliding her shorts back down her leg. Even though he knew it would heal any minute, he undid his belt and wrapped it tightly above the bite before sliding off his jacket and wrapping it around her shivering body.

“Me and some friends were camping by lookout point, in the east of the woods. They all went swimming at the creek, but I wasn’t feeling up to it, so I went back to the camp.” her voice faltered slightly, but as Stiles placed his hand on her shoulder, she continued. “I was walking back when some sort of animal attacked me. I ran away from it, but I could feel myself changing.” Her voice stopped, unable to continue because of the drastic dropping of her body temperature. Stiles sat down next to her and wrapped himself around her, trying to warm her up. Her body tensed at his touch, but relaxed into the heat of his body.

“You never told me your name.” He coaxed, running his hands up her arms to try and get blood flowing through her veins again.

“Malia.” She whispered, her voice shaking.

“Well Malia, you probably aren’t going to believe this, but by the looks of things you were bitten by… a werewolf.” He stated warily, not knowing what her reaction would be.

“Stiles, I’ve grown claws... I believe you.” She sighed. “What are you? Since you seem to know so much.” Her body was still freezing, but his additional warmth seemed to be making a small difference, and she wasn’t shaking as violently.

“I’m just a guy that’s had allot of experience with the supernatural..” He replied. He wasn’t going to tell her that he was a supernatural hunter. How exactly do you bring that up around someone who has been freshly turned into a werewolf. Like ‘Oh hey, you’ve just been turned into a supernatural being against your will, and now the only guy who wants to help you, just happens to hunt and kill your kind.’ He didn’t want to risk being attacked by a beta who can’t control the change, the night before a full moon.

Malia snuggled into him, drinking in all the heat she could. “So what’s happening to me? Am I turning into some sort of animal?”

“You’re becoming a werewolf.” He whispered, knowing what her transformations would mean. “On the full moon, which is tomorrow night, you’re going to find it impossible to control the shift. You’re going to lose all control, and it’s quite likely that you will hurt someone.” He said. There was no point in holding back the truth.

“How do I stop it?”

Stiles thought for a second, before reaching around to face her. “I’ll help you.”

~

“Stiles, are the chains really necessary?” Malia groaned as he tightened the cuffs around her wrists.

“Malia, we don’t know how strong you’re going to be, and if you get out… we don’t know what you’d do. This is just a precaution.” He said, sliding down to lean against the wall next to her. They were in the basement of his house. He lived with his dad, the Sheriff, but a werewolf had killed five people and the Police department still thought it was a homicide so he was working late a lot.

Malia leant her head on his shoulder. “Stiles, I’m scared.” she whispered, her voice wavering.

“It’s okay Malia. I’m here.”

"You need to go. I'll hurt you." She tried, pulling herself from his chest.

He kept his grip on her and tilted her chin so she would meet her eyes, "I am not going to abandon you and make you go through this alone Malia." 

He could feel the cells in her body changing beneath his fingers. "Malia, focus on the sound of my voice okay?" He whispered, turning around to face her.

She dropped her head, and a low growl escaped her throat. When she brought her head up to look at him again, her eyes were glowing gold, and her fangs were exposed. “Stiles, go.” She pleaded. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

Stiles edged closer to her, wary of the claws protruding from her fingertips. “You’re not going to hurt me.”  
“How do you know?” She pleaded. “Right now I want to rip your face off. I don’t think I’ll be able to control it.”

Stiles reached out and wrapped his large hand around hers. “Control is overrated.” He smiled. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Malia looked up at him pleadingly. “Stiles please.”

“Malia, just focus on the sound of my voice okay?” He tried, but the shift was too much for her. ‘Think Stiles think!’ he thought to himself, ‘How do you control the panic attacks?’ He takes his mind off what it was that was causing it. Impulsively, he reached out and crashed his lips to hers. Immediately, he could feel her fangs retreating, and the claws on the hand he was holding disappeared. He reached up and cupped her face in his hands as she pulled him towards her by the hem of his shirt. 

Her fingers ran up and down his spine as their lips collided. Reaching down, he unchained her wrists and pulled her around onto his lap. His lips brushed hers again before pulling away to look at her. The gold in her eyes had faded to their original hazel colour, and her lips formed a sly smile. Leaning down as if to meet his lips, her head slipped to the side, her lips brushing his ear.

Lips curled into a smile, she whispered, “You’re right. Control is overrated.” 

Stiles laughed. “I’m just glad you don’t want to rip my face off anymore.” 

“Oh I never said that.” She laughed, “It’s just now I have something to focus on.” She stated, straddling him. “An anchor if you will.”

Stiles’ hands ran along her thighs, and he leaned up to plant a kiss on her lips. “As long as you don’t rip my face off, I’ll be whatever you want.” He mocked.


End file.
